


The Beast You've Made of Me

by dvs



Series: Variations on a D-Brane (I Belong to You) [1]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crisis of Faith, M/M, Mirror Universe, Organized Crime, Priests, Religious Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 02:23:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvs/pseuds/dvs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonard is losing his faith and Jim is there to catch him when he falls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beast You've Made of Me

If you could only see the beast you've made of me  
I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free  
Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart

from Florence and the Machine's _Howl_

You really broke my heart  
And I tried to sing  
But I couldn’t think of anything  
And that was the hardest part  
I could feel it go down  
You left the sweetest taste in my mouth  
You're a silver lining the clouds  
Oh and I, I wonder what it’s all about  
Everything I know is wrong  
Everything I do, it's just comes undone  
And everything is torn apart

from Coldplay's _The Hardest Part_

*

No one loses their faith in a moment.

He can pretend that's how it happened. One moment two weeks ago, when he told the doctors to shut off his father's life support machine. But to be honest, he's been struggling for years. Maybe even before his father started to be eaten away by disease, fighting it off, fighting it even when it came back, ultimately losing. Staring at his father, lying there paler than the sheets, Leonard could only think of all the times prayer failed and he consoled himself by accepting that God is there with you, even if he does nothing. His being there should be enough.

Later, when he's standing in the mourning rain at his father's fresh grave, he waits to feel the comfort and the warmth of his faith and instead he feels cold, empty and so angry. The heat of his tears should be burning off the rain as it falls, but instead it all mingles together, murky and confusing. And he tells himself that this is just grief over losing his father. But he's known these feelings before. He's fought with them. Won. But how many times can you fight and win before you're too tired to keep going?

He reaches for the last source of comfort, pulling out his father's silver flask, raising it in a toast before he puts it to his lips and lets the whiskey burn a trail to his stomach.

*

St. Mary's is just like Leonard's last parish. It's large and beautiful, made for the song of sermon, for the echo of prayer to reach up, out and beyond to His ears. It's also smack bang in the middle of a neighborhood where God is about as trustworthy as any other politician. But then sometimes it feels as though cities are filling with cynics and sinners and all the churches have left are the echoes of once heartfelt prayer, fading into the rafters.

Leonard watches Father Christopher Pike during communion, always with the passion of a believer, the same passion as the kind of man who would walk into the house of God and upturn the tables of sinners. He believes God is justice. Fairness. Hope. Something pure and good.

Leonard... he just tries to believe. It gets harder and harder.

"The body of Christ," he murmurs as he puts the consecrated wafer on another tongue, receiving another 'Amen'. And another. And another. And he's like a robot.

The body of Christ. The body of Christ. The body of Christ.

Hollowed be thy name, Leonard finds his mind whispering and he swallows, "The body of Christ."

There's an interruption. Someone runs into the church, shutting the doors, snapping urgent instruction into a cellphone to some Scotty. Leonard's hand is poised half-way to someone's mouth as he stares at the blonde man. His face appears to have bruises and blood trickling down his forehead and Chris is looking at him too. A number of emotions seem to flicker across his face. Shock, worry, annoyance.

The intruder notices and breathlessly says, "No need to stop on my account." Then he holds up the gun, casually waving it. "I insist."

The congregation is staring in wild-eyed panic. Chris looks as though he's going to do something foolish like go a few rounds with this punk. From their sparring, Leonard guesses Chris could probably take him. Before he even realizes it, Leonard is stepping away from the small procession of people waiting before him.

"Leonard, stop," Chris snaps as he sees Leonard moving towards the intruder.

"I'll be right back," Leonard says, itching for a damn fight.

Behind him, Chris shouts, "Jim, leave. _Now_."

"Just bring it around the front," Jim says into his phone and then turns exactly in time to greet Leonard with the nozzle of his gun. "_What_ are you doing?"

"This is the house of God," Leonard says, almost glad to feel the anger, to feel something. "You can't just--"

"Well send him out here. Don't get your dress in a twist," Jim says. He does something to the gun, making it click before he lowers it and leans against the door. "Although... I wouldn't exactly say no to a conversation with you, _Father_," he says with a shamelessly provocative smile.

"I don't want you to hurt anyone here," Leonard says quietly. "That's all I'm asking."

Jim frowns at Leonard before breaking out into another all too amused smile. He pokes Leonard in the chest with the nozzle of his gun, sliding it down to his stomach and back up. "What if I hurt you?"

Leonard looks at the gun and then the other man. "Why do you have to hurt anyone at all?"

Looking annoyed, Jim pokes Leonard hard in the chest again, using his gun to push Leonard away. "What's the matter with you, man? You have a death wish or something? Or you trying to impress someone? A nice girl? A boy? I know what you priests are--"

Leonard impulsively steps forward, but the gun is right there and all he can do is silently simmer while Jim continues to amuse himself. He looks like he's going to say something else, but a car is urgently honking outside. He looks at the door and then steps towards Leonard, like maybe he's going to whisper something in his ear and then very suddenly grabs him by the back of the neck and plants a flat kiss on his mouth. Once the shock wears off, Leonard struggles and shoves the other man off easily, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand as Jim displays a victorious smile at his feat as he leaves, while Leonard stands there, face heated with humiliation.

*

At night, Leonard falls asleep looking at the crucifix on the wall, asking God if it really was worth giving up an only son for this world. God doesn't answer. Out of spite, Leonard's saddened soul dreams of Jim who sweeps into his dream like Lucifer and rips a rosary from Leonard's hand, hunger in his blazing and bright eyes, dark promises in his smile.

Leonard wakes, shaking and ashamed. And he's so sick of waking up this way.

God has no comment on this. This is not unusual.

*

"Skull and bones? Not very priestly." Leonard stops pounding on the old leather punchbag in the church gym, turning to see Jim, smartly dressed in black pants and a buttoned up black coat, hands in pockets and bright blue eyes on the teenage mistake on Leonard's arm.

"What do you want?" Leonard asks, throwing his fists at the ancient punchbag.

"Chris wants me to apologize," Jim says with a shrug. Then he makes a mock serious face. "Apparently, I've been a very bad boy."

Christopher Pike is proving to be an interesting man. He curses as much as he prays and he calls Jim a 'stupid kid' like all he did was run into church and stick his tongue out at the congregation. Besides, Chris says, kid's not going to shoot up a church he's donated thousands of dollars to over the years.

"So, here I am," Jim says flatly. "Sorry, man."

Leonard stops punching, grabbing the bag in his taped up hands as he stares at the recently made dents that are breathing back out slowly. He's shaking his head at the apology. "That's it? You're sorry?"

He looks back to see Jim shrugging as he leans against the wall. "It's not like I shot anyone. You're not still sore about that kiss are you? Come on, I barely touched you."

Leonard let's go of the bag and looks at Jim. "You bring that gun with you today?"

Jim gives Leonard a challenging look. "Don't need it today."

Leonard flies at Jim, grabbing him by the front of his coat before punching him in the gut twice. Jim coughs, clearly shocked, but recovers quickly and grabs Leonard tight around the waist, smashing him against one of the exercise machines. They fall to the floor and fight for control of each other until the back of Jim's head hits the hard stone floor and his body slows down. He blinks to regain his focus as Leonard sits up, straddling him, fist curled to hit again, Jim's hand limp on Leonard's knee. Leonard gathers himself, lowering his fist. Jim just lies there and waits for it, out of breath and urging Leonard with a daring look.

Leonard takes a few shuddering breaths and then yanks at the front of Jim's coat. "What you did that day, bringing that gun... don't you _ever_ do that again. You got me? There were kids there, you punk. Do you understand me?"

Jim just continues to glare, very still and observant. "I got you. No gun. Now get the hell off me, Father. Before I change my mind."

Leonard stands up, still glaring at Jim for a good few seconds. He holds out a hand and pulls Jim up before walking away to get a towel.

The world is only just tilting back into place when Jim says, "I take it you're not sore about the kiss then."

Leonard gives Jim a harsh look and leaves without replying.

*

That night Leonard dreams again, dreams of kneeling with his hands together as he prays. And finally his prayer is answered when a warm hand is cupping his face and urging him to his feet and he opens his eyes and blinks into the radiance of curious bright blue eyes.

*

Leonard tells himself that whatever this thing with Jim is, it's a test. Jim, who sits there at the back of church. Never sings a single prayer, never listens to a single sermon. Just sits there and stares at Leonard with dark intent in his pale eyes and then he lines up in the procession and bows his head before Leonard, accepting the body of Christ and at the same time, rejecting every damned thing around them.

When he looks up at Leonard from under his lashes and whispers, "Amen," Leonard can't think of when he's ever heard something so obscene.

Chris thinks it's some kind of transformation in process. He's right. He just has the wrong person in mind.

*

In his dreams, Jim is there more often than not. Leonard always wakes, shaking, twisted and torn, always falling to his knees by his bed, praying.

"Why are you doing this?" he whispers harshly in the dead of night. "Why are doing this to me?"

Sometimes it's impossible to tell who he's asking.

*

If Chris is good for one thing, it's a crisis of faith. Leonard can tell he's had a few, but here he is, still ardent in his beliefs. Leonard envies him. Envies anyone who can get past the hurt to continue believing.

"People have a point. Why doesn't he answer? Especially when you need him the most," Leonard quietly asks, sitting in one of the pews and staring ahead. "Centuries of believing, millions of people praying."

"I think He does answer," Chris says as quietly. "Maybe we just don't realize because we're looking for perfect answers."

Leonard closes his eyes and continues to let his heart break over all that time believing in nothing.

*

"You look like crap," Jim says one day, hanging around the church, a complete nuisance, his thugs across the street, watching from a black limo.

Leonard continues painting over some graffiti, ignoring the way Jim is staring at him. "How about you either help me with this or get out of here. I'm not in the mood for your observations."

Jim snorts, but after a moment he picks up a roller and starts painting. "You been sleeping at all?"

"Just shut up and paint."

"Why can't you sleep?" Jim asks slowly, his roller intersecting a line Leonard has just made.

Leonard throws down his roller and grabs Jim by his collar, pulling him into the overgrown backyard, behind the metal wire fence and slams him against the gray concrete wall. Jim looks like he's about to get angry, but then Leonard chokes down a harsh and painful breath, his hand going to Jim's hair, other hand fisted in his jacket and then he's kissing him, mostly finding bottom lip. Jim's arms are around him all of a sudden, and their mouths are aligning and Leonard has never held anyone this tight before.

He hears footsteps rushing close and pulls his mouth away from Jim's, hearing him gasp. Leonard takes Jim's hands and gently pushes away, letting go of Jim's hands when there's a decent amount of space between them. Jim's minders jump around the fence, guns out at the ready. They look at Jim for a signal, but Jim is still staring at Leonard, his hair messed, his lips wet and flushed pink. Leonard just wants the ground to open up and swallow him.

"Put the guns away. This is Bones," Jim says. His goons look at each other, childish knowing smiles on their faces. Jim nods at them. "Sulu, wait in the car. You too, Chekov. I'll be there in a second."

"Sure, Boss," Sulu says before nodding to Leonard. "Father."

When they're gone, Jim turns to Leonard. He has a questioning look on his face, too terribly open and his hand is reaching for Leonard, but Leonard holds up his hands and steps away.

"Jim. Please go," Leonard says and turns away, not daring to look at Jim's face as he stalks back into the church.

Leonard doesn't pray that night. Not for forgiveness, not for help. He just stares at the crucifix on his wall, watching Jesus bleed for his father.

*

A few night's later, Leonard receives a visitor.

"Leonard. Leonard. This... is God."

Leonard can't help but crack a smile. He looks at the dark figure half leaning into the bedroom and half on the fire escape outside the window. "You're not supposed to be here, Jim."

Jim climbs in looking like a shadow, something that has crept out of the darkest corners of the night. "But I am God. I am everywhere, my son."

Leonard shakes his head, hearing the smile in Jim's voice. Then he's shocked out of complacency when Jim suddenly approaches the bed and straddles Leonard's body, keeping his hands on his own knees.

Leonard's hands come away from where they were linked behind his head, going to his sides, fingers curling inwards. "Jim, don't," he whispers.

"Don't what? I just want to talk to you, Bones," Jim says very quietly, not moving, not touching, not doing anything, but driving Leonard insane with the smallest things, like the name he uses just so he has a part of Leonard no one else can. "You kissed me."

"I know."

"Why?"

"Jim, please--" Leonard grabs at the blanket to keep himself from touching Jim.

Jim is a shadow above him, head slightly tilted as if he can see Leonard in the dark. For some reason his quiet observation is worse than his questions. Leonard sees the movement of his arm and swallows nervously. He feels Jim's gloved hand on his wrist, moving down to his fingers. Jim slowly lifts Leonard's hand and brings it to his face, pressing into Leonard's palm. Leonard frowns, nervousness and shock all turning to a strange calmness as he tries to make out Jim's face in the dark, only able to feel. He suddenly wishes the light was on, he wants to see what he can feel in the palm of his hand. Leonard opens his mouth to speak, but instead it's his fingers that move, his thumb stroking Jim's face, feeling stubble, the dips and bumps of skin, the warmth of the blood underneath.

It's with great control that Leonard manages to rasp the words, "This is wrong."

Jim's body is still. After a moment he lets go of Leonard's hand, which doesn't fall like a rock, like something that might have been held against its will. It's still within touching distance of Jim's face. Slowly, Leonard pulls his hand completely away. Jim moves off his body slowly, and without another word he's leaving, climbing out of the window and angrily climbing down the fire escape, his footfalls hard and urgent.

Leonard lies there feeling the cold of the room, his hand still warm where Jim had held it to his face.

*

He doesn't see Jim for two weeks and each day is like torture. Each prayer is laced with anger. Under all the words Leonard says, he accuses God of one more betrayal. First you turned your back on me and now you've taken this away too.

He sits in the front pew and stares ahead, telling the bleeding Messiah, "You died for nothing."

*

He sees Jim exactly three weeks after the other man left him in pieces during that awful night. Chris somewhat reluctantly tells him that Jim was in an accident. Fortunately he somehow managed to escape a bullet, the police, and death. Leonard has barely finished listening to Chris before he's demanding an address and driving there at an insane speed.

Like most houses built from the fruits of crime, Jim's home is perfectly respectable looking. He's let into the house by an impeccably dressed man with dark observant eyes that are suspicious until Leonard takes off his coat and scarf and the collar is on display.

"My apologies, Father McCoy. We have to be careful," the man says to Leonard, speaking too softly for what Leonard assumes is just another of Jim's thugs.

Leonard nods. "I was hoping to see Jim. Is he home?"

"Down the hall, the door on the left."

"Thank you," Leonard says, receiving a polite nod.

He walks down the hall, hearing Jim's voice as he gets closer. Jim's angry and shouting. He wants to get 'that son of a bitch Nero'. Jim has never sounded this ugly, not even that first time they met.

Leonard stops in the doorway of the kitchen and sees Jim standing with his back to the door, dressed in an expensive black shirt and pants with shiny black shoes. In front of him are Sulu and Chekov accompanied by another man and young woman Leonard hasn't seen before.

The woman sees Leonard and her distracted look makes Jim turn around. He's shocked silent for a moment. When he recovers he tells the others to leave. Leonard just drinks him in, his insides flipping at the split lip and butterfly bandage over stitches above Jim's forehead. When did Jim become as important as daily bread, Leonard wonders.

"What are you doing here?" Jim asks.

"I heard you were hurt," Leonard replies.

"So?" Jim says. "I probably deserve it."

Leonard doesn't say anything. Maybe Jim lives in a world of bullets and crime, but he still doesn't want Jim to be deserved of hurt. Trying not to betray anyone, Leonard remains quiet.

"Well, I'm alive. So you can go home now. Go say a Hail Mary or something," Jim says, turning his back on Leonard, sounding winded.

Leonard nods. There's nothing he can say without betraying someone in the process. God has left him impotent. He turns to leave. Only Jim's suddenly grabbing his arm hard, wrenching his shoulder as he turns Leonard back around and kisses him hard, biting at his mouth and holding him tight.

"Bastard," he rasps. "You'd just fucking leave, wouldn't you?"

"I thought you wanted me to," Leonard says thickly, all the fight gone from his body, leaving nothing but skin and bones. His hands are unable to do more than weakly grab at Jim's arms.

Jim pulls back and there's fire and light in his eyes. Leonard doesn't even question him when Jim grabs his hand and all but hauls him up the winding staircase and into a bedroom, shoving him backwards so Leonard stumbles and lands on the bed. He starts to get up, but Jim shoves him back down again.

"What do you want from me, Bones?" Jim asks quietly, his question sounding like an ultimatum, eyes blazing a little too bright. He's not really asking what Leonard wants, not really. He's asking what Leonard wants to give. Everything, Leonard thinks. "Tell me what you want."

Leonard lets out a harsh breath before his hand tiredly goes to his throat. He pulls on the collar, and it seems forever before it comes away, as if it's sewn right into his skin, right into his soul. When it's out, he doesn't look at it. He looks at Jim instead, holding out the white stripe that's kept him in bondage for so long.

Jim doesn't take it, he swats it away and falls to his knees between Leonard's legs, embracing him around his waist. Leonard leans over him, burying his face in Jim's hair, breathing him in, taking as much of Jim in his arms as he can.

Even so, being the consummate betrayer, take me back, he says. Show me a sign. Take me away from this man.

*

Chris knows that Leonard has bad news. Leonard wonders if it's because of how obscene he looks without that white stripe at his throat.

"Leonard," he says. "Having a crisis of faith isn't unheard of and it definitely isn't something new. Take some time. Think about what you're throwing away here." Then he leans in close, covering Leonard's hands. "I know Jim. He thinks he's doing good. Thinks he's in a redeemable shade of gray, but he's not. He's had his chance to change his life around and he didn't take it. Don't let him take you down with him." When Leonard looks away, choosing to glare at the floor, Chris sighs, shaking his head. "Take some time. Then come back and tell me what you want. I'm not ready to lose you just yet."

Leonard looks past Chris and at the crucifix where the tortured figure seems to look weak and dying rather than dead and gone. It's not Chris he wants stopping him.

Leonard leaves the church and steps out into the blissfully cold rain, letting it soak through his clothes for a long time before he hears Chekov shout out, "Father!"

He looks at the car with its blacked out windows, the door held open for him. Leonard slowly walks away from the church and gets inside where Jim is sitting there watching him. Leonard leans forward and breathes deeply as the car starts up and drives away from the church. Jim drapes his own coat over Leonard's shoulders and Jim's hand is warm and calming as it strokes the back of Leonard's neck.

"You okay?" Jim asks. Leonard shakes his head. Jim's fingers are in his hair, soothing and gentle. "You will be. Come here." Leonard looks to the side where Jim is looking back with tilted head, closed off expression. Christ, Leonard thinks, he can see his damn gun hidden inside his jacket.

Leonard lets Jim take his hand and pull him closer, until he's leaning back against the seat, eyes closed and Jim's mouth laying gentle kisses on his jaw, kisses that make his chest hurt.

"Let's go home, okay?" Jim whispers and Leonard can do no more than nod.

*

Later, Jim is laying kisses on Leonard's bare shoulders, kissing a path down his spine. His fingers are cool and probing, then gentle, warm, exciting. Leonard closes his eyes and crushes the pillow in his hands, almost not wanting to feel how shamefully his body wants to consume Jim, be consumed by him.

"It's okay," Jim whispers. "I know you probably haven't done this be--"

"I have," Leonard says and Jim becomes still and silent for too long. "Jim?"

Jim laughs and it sounds nervous. "Some ego, right? I thought you'd--"

"Given up God for you?" Leonard asks. This time when Jim laughs, there's genuine amusement. Leonard closes his eyes again. "I did. All the other times I always went crawling back."

Jim is quiet again, but his hand is stroking Leonard's back, before his whole body is covering Leonard. He kisses Leonard's ear before whispering, "No more crawling back, Bones. He doesn't want you, that's His loss."

Leonard actually snaps his head around to stare at Jim. A voice in his heart whispers that only God and the devil know your deepest darkest thoughts.

*

Leonard isn't sure how long he should be holed up with Jim, but every time he brings up the idea of getting his own place, Jim doesn't want to hear about it. You don't give up God for a guy and then get your own place, apparently. Even so, Leonard needs to know what he's going to do with this godless life. He's goes into town, transfixed by his reflection in every window. At one point he has to stop and stare, wondering what's so different between this normal man in the reflection and the man he used to see in the mirror every day before Jim.

"Father!" someone calls out and Leonard turns to see one of his parishioners, a young woman who appears to be reliving the eighties to some extreme. "Look at you! Wow, you know, out of church, you're kind of a hotty."

Her friend laughs at her side and says, "Father Pike said you were sick. You doing okay now?"

Leonard nods mutely, his mouth too dry to respond, while the first woman says, "Well, I hope you'll be back soon. Everybody misses you like hell."

"Don't say hell!"

"Oh, sorry, Father. But you know what I mean. Get back to us soon, you know?"

And in a flurry of colors they're both gone and Leonard feels giddy and sick and Jim isn't around to stop everything from spinning out of control with his bright eyes and constant energy. Leonard starts off walking home and when he arrives he realizes he's been running like something's been at his heels, chasing him all the way.

He runs inside, up the stairs and shuts himself in the bedroom, out of breath and burning up. Then he lashes out at anything that comes in the way of his fists and kicks, ending with him smashing the full-length mirror into pieces, which is useless because when he looks at the floor he can still see himself in all the pieces. Dropping to the floor, he angrily sweeps the pieces away, out of his sight and then sits there tiredly leaning against the bed, completely worn out until Jim turns up ten minutes later and surveys the damage.

"I never really liked the look of this room," he says quietly, before sitting down next to Leonard.

He takes Leonard's left hand which is cut from swatting away pieces of the broken mirror, looking at it without a readable expression. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, Jim bandages the bleeding hand while Leonard just closes his eyes and lets his head fall back on the edge of the bed.

*

"You know why you're so angry?" Jim asks as Leonard's thrusting into him that night.

Leonard frowns down at Jim. "What?"

"You, smashing up my stuff," Jim says breathlessly as Leonard's head flops forward and he takes a ragged breath.

"I'm not talking about this now," Leonard says rather exasperated.

"I know, but you're so fucked up. It's distracting." Leonard can do no more than stare, torn between the sensations of his body and the surprise at Jim's lack of logic about timely conversations "You've got me all worried. I can't be worrying about you when I'm kicking the crap out of someone."

Leonard closes his eyes. "How about you just stop kicking the crap out of people?"

"Trust me, most of them have it coming," Jim says and it appears he's interested in the matters at hand again, because his body suddenly adopts a rhythm and is languidly rolling up into Leonard's thrusts. When Leonard leans down for a long indulgent kiss, Jim puts a hand on the back of his neck, keeping him close, kissing and occupied. He parts to briefly to whisper a discreet 'love you', before his mouth is greedily back on Leonard's.

What is there to go back to from this, Leonard thinks.

*

Leonard wakes an hour later because when he sleepily rolls over to be closer to Jim, no one's there. He can't bitterly help thinking that maybe he has a knack for falling for the same kinds of guys again and again.

"Trust me, if you existed you'd think that was funny," Leonard mutters as he lays in bed, morose and cold.

After a failed attempt at trying to sleep, Leonard gets up, throws on a t-shirt and sweat pants and makes his way downstairs. Jim is in the living room, sitting on the couch in nothing but a pair of sweats, watching TV with the remote in his hand. Rubbing his face, Leonard walks in, the light from the TV still a little too bright after the dark of their bedroom.

Jim looks up to see Leonard and frowns. "Did I wake you?"

Leonard shakes his head. "Couldn't sleep. Why are you up?"

"Criminal activities," Jim says utterly shameless.

Leonard makes a face and sits down next to him, folding his arms. Jim just smiles as Leonard looks at the TV and some show with an exuberant evangelist praising the lord.

Tiredly, Leonard says, "What are you watching?"

"I think it's a sitcom," Jim says. Leonard starts to get up, but Jim grabs Leonard's hand and pulls him back down. "_Bones._"

"Whatever ridiculous point you're going to make, just make it already," Leonard says, pulling his hand away.

Jim gives him the kind of impatient look he usually reserves for his goons. Then he frowns and says, "I had this crazy dream before."

Leonard sighs. "The kind of life you live, Jim, it's hardly surprising."

Jim shakes his head. "No. It was... it was from before. When I was a kid."

This has Leonard's attention. Jim doesn't talk about family. He doesn't even have pictures of them in this big house. All he has is this strange flicker of pain that passes across his eyes for less than a second if Leonard broaches the subject.

"What was it?" Leonard asks quietly.

Jim shrugs. "Just some random thing. Just, everyone was there and it felt like being a kid again."

"Is that bad?"

Jim pulled a face. "Frank, my stepfather was... a difficult man. Stupid kid that I was, I convinced myself that maybe if I was just good enough, if I followed all the rules, he'd be the kind of father I..." Jim trails off, frowns at the TV and then looks back with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "I realized pretty quickly I'd never be good enough. Even so, that moment where I thought I could change it all, make him stop hating me--"

"Come on, he didn't hate you."

Jim laughs. "Oh, trust me, that son of a bitch hated me. He hated anyone with the name Kirk. The point is, Bones, despite how much I hated him, I still wished I could go back to being able to believe things would be okay. That some guy with a long white beard, sitting on a cloud was going to answer my prayers."

Leonard stares at Jim before he can't look at the anger in his eyes anymore and instead looks at the TV, the unmoving hair of the evangelist, his sparkling jacket and odd tan.

"The worst thing," Jim says flatly, "you realist you don't feel anything inside you that even hints at the existence of some supreme being. And you still keep wanting to go back to believing. Because it means someone's watching and making sure people get what's coming to them. Maybe there are answers to all those questions that have you drinking at four in the morning. Of course you're angry." Jim says quietly. "I'd be angry."

And with that he just goes back to watching the TV, picking up the remote and changing the channel to one with _Dukes of Hazard_ reruns.

Leonard stares at the TV miserably. "I hate this show," he says, sure he was going to say something else, which is gone even from his memory now.

Jim hands the TV remote to Leonard, placing it in the palm of his hand. Leonard's thumb toys with it for a moment as he stares at the blurry buttons. Seconds later, Jim throws the remote aside and silently covers Leonard's hand with his own. His palm is warm over Leonard's hand, their fingers slotting together like a jigsaw puzzle.

Looking at their joined hands, Leonard searches for the supposed sin, only finding comfort. Something he hasn't known in a long time.

*

Leonard wants life to be as simple as Jim sitting around, talking about love and betrayal, God and lies, while watching TV. Jim makes the impossible seem easy. But there are nights when he's brought home amidst shouts and panic. There are impromptu visits from doctors who get paid cash in hand. There are visits from police detectives who ask questions with barely restrained disgust at the man they can't seem to touch. Leonard is trying to find salvation in a murky world, and it's not easy at all, no matter how easy Jim can make it look.

*

Jim is in his large office where he 'takes care of business'. Leonard can hear him talking to Spock and Uhura in quiet tones. Leonard still can't help marveling how dangerous Jim sounds when he's talking to other people, some kind of barely contained rage always underlining his words. After a moment, Uhura and Spock walk out. Spock gives Leonard his customary polite nod, while Uhura gives him her customary gentle smile, looking a little relieved to see him.

When Leonard walks in, Jim is pacing the room, one hand on hip the other rubbing over his mouth, shoulders and back looking tight and hard with tension.

"This a bad time?" Leonard asks.

Jim turns and sees Leonard, relaxing instantly. "Where were you? You were gone a long time."

Leonard puts his jacket over the arm of the leather couch, shaking his head. "Thought I'd take a walk. Have a think."

Jim nods. "About anything in particular?"

Anyone else wouldn't see it, the way Jim already has seven possible conclusions figured out about Leonard's thoughts. Leonard knows better. And he knows one of those seven conclusions is bound to be right. "I'm thinking I ought to move out." Jim nods, not shocked at all. "This place is crazy. Watching you come home with bullet holes and bruises almost every week is a little too much for me. I love you to death, Jim, but... it's hard being a part of this."

Jim nods towards the couch. "Sit down, Bones."

Leonard frowns at Jim for a moment before slowly sitting down and watching Jim walk out of the room. Minutes later Jim returns, sans jacket and shirt sleeves rolled up. He sits next to Leonard, putting a newspaper on his lap, open and ready for apartment hunting. Leonard stares at him.

Jim shrugs and offers up a patented smirk. "It'll be one more place I can hide out."

Leonard stares at him and then the paper.

"You're right," Jim says when Leonard remains speechless. "This can wait until later." He shoves the paper aside and all but climbs onto Leonard's lap, pushing him back against the couch and kissing him with typical possessiveness.

*

Leonard goes to church. He sits in the pew where Jim used to sit. He tries to imagine how he looked in Jim's eyes, standing there, concentrating so hard he'd lose his train of thought altogether. And then the first time he looked at Jim, intending to be defiant, failing spectacularly.

He had turned his head and glared at Jim as Jim sat there, his head at a tilt, pale eyes narrowed. Jim so easily told Leonard everything he wanted without a single word. The church's foundations should have shaken, collapsing the building on the man who was thinking of giving away his soul.

Leonard tilts his head and looks at his imaginary self looking back and instead he sees Jim from a long forgotten dream, swinging a rosary around his fingers and looking at Leonard with complete and unfettered want.

Leonard gets up and walks out, making his way home to Jim.

*

Months later, while Jim finds an apartment fit for a movie star, Leonard finds a bookstore for sale. The current owner is considering retiring and selling the place complete with musty old stock in the basement and overflowing apartment upstairs. Leonard can see that with some updating, an injection of new stock, this old store can probably thrive.

He runs the idea past Jim who looks at the store and then turns and looks down the street where the church seems to be standing directly under some fucking cliche beam of goddamn sunlight.

"It won't work out, you know," Jim says with a smirk. "You'll be running into each other all the time."

Leonard just smiles and looks at the shop with his flaking green paint and neglected darkened windows. He figures that for all his jokes, Jim knows this is Leonard's way of staying close to the people he's served, even if their god no longer wants him.

*

Someone breaks into Leonard's apartment on the very first night. He hears noises in the living room and picks up the bat from underneath his bed, slowly making his way out to confront the intruder. The attacker blindsides him, crashing into him, twisting the bat out of his grasp and pushing him to the ground with a laugh.

Leonard stills under the man who is pinning him to the ground. "Jim?"

Jim laughs a little louder. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

Leonard can tell he's drunk. "Get off me. You're an idiot."

Jim sighs and flops down at Leonard's side, his gloved hand stroking up under Leonard's t-shirt. "You disappointed I broke in to see you?"

Leonard thinks about it for a long time and then sighs. "No. You could have just waited until I gave you your damn a key, you know?"

Jim's hand disappears, reappearing to dangle something metallic over Leonard's face. "This one?"

Leonard shakes his head. He should be more annoyed. "Yeah. That one."

Jim sloppily kisses him and whispers, "It's the best key I've ever had," and then lies there absolutely drunkenly laughing, his hand wrapped warm around Leonard's, like he might never let go.

Looking at his shadow in the dark, Leonard thinks that maybe if people spent more time worshiping each other instead of silent gods, maybe the world would be a happier place.

*

Months later, the paint is no longer flaking, but smooth and black and the windows are bright and clean, the shop busy and stocked. The people who once knew him in church come to visit, still thinking that some kind of sickness has driven him away, praying that he heals, praying that he comes back to them and then wishing him well.

Jim likes stop by unannounced, pretending to look for books he knows aren't in the shop. His favorite query is, "Excuse me, but I'm having trouble finding the section on religion."

And when Leonard doesn't laugh, Jim laughs anyway, stealing a book of his choice and running out to his waiting car or motorcycle.

And if some higher power is questioning Leonard's choice, he just stands at the window and looks down the street, thinking, 'you left me first' followed by 'maybe you were never there'.

*

Leonard hasn't stayed over at Jim's in a while. It's not such a big deal. Jim seems to prefer being surrounded by Leonard and his things. Still, tonight Leonard wants to go to Jim and he closes the shop on time, watching police cars rush down the street outside. It's a quiet drive to Jim's house, the sky slowly turning dark, a sad piano on the radio quietly filling the silence. There is something awful about this night and Leonard can't wait to get to Jim.

He lets himself into the house through the kitchen, walking up the hall towards the murmurs in Jim's office. When he gets there he sees Spock, Uhura, Scotty, Sulu and Chekov. but no Jim. They all look worried and the air is filled with tension. Scotty sees him first and elbows Spock.

"Where's Jim?" Leonard asks.

Spock is as unreadable as ever. "We don't know."

Leonard swallows. "Is that important?"

Scotty is easier to read and he has panic painted across his face. "He's been gone all day. His bike's missing."

"Where would he go?" Leonard asks quietly.

Scotty is about to open his mouth when Sulu says, "I don't think Jim wants everyone to know his business."

"He's not just anyone though, is he?" Uhura says. She looks at Leonard. "Right?"

Leonard stares at Uhura. "What kind of trouble is he in?"

"We think this has something to do with Nero," she says.

Leonard nods. "Right. And what the hell are you all doing here? Shouldn't you be out there looking for him? I mean exactly what are your jobs here?"

"Clearly he did not want our involvement," Spock says. "It appears he has done everything in his power to make sure we wouldn't realize he was gone."

Leonard moves towards the desk. "I'm calling the police."

Spock moves quickly for a man who always seems so still and composed. He's standing in Leonard's way with an adamant look on his face. "I can't let you do that."

"Damn it, man, he could be dying out there somewhere," Leonard grates.

"We have people looking for him," Spock says.

Leonard steps back and says, "Fine. I'll go look for him too."

"That is out of the question," Spock says. "I can't let you leave."

Leonard glares at him. "Like hell."

Leonard is still considering his options when there's a crash in the kitchen. Everyone runs at the same time, guns out and ready. Jim comes out before they step inside, stopping them in their tracks. They all watch him slowly walk down the hall, a mess of blood and rain, his white shirt red almost down his entire left side, gun hanging limp in his hand, blood down his face which is covered in cuts and bruises.

"There's a car outside," he says quietly. "Get rid of it."

Sulu, Chekov and Sulu are instantly moving, while Uhura goes to Jim's side, taking his gun from him and eying him with worry. He doesn't look at her, though his eyes flick in her direction for a moment. "Get Chapel."

Uhura gives Spock a look, communicating something silently before she leaves. Spock goes to Jim and says, "Nero?"

Jim's eyes are watery and there's a strange restrained look about him. He shakes his head slowly and says, "Next time."

Spock displays no real emotion, but airs his annoyance anyway. "I hope next time you will alert me to your intentions, Jim."

But Jim is looking at Leonard and Leonard is fixated on all the blood covering Jim. It's on his face, on his shirt, on his hands. Leonard might be imagining it, but he thinks he can smell it too, taste the coppery tang on his tongue. It's funny how Jim seems to be saying so much in one look. Leonard feels broken looking at Jim like this, but everything about Jim's demeanor says 'this is who I am' and he'll never try to explain it away. He is what he is. Dangerous, emotional and impulsive, and he lives in a world where these things will shorten anyone's lifespan.

Leonard knows he should walk away from this. Away from the blood and bullets that surround Jim. But it seems harder than the night he walked away from St. Mary's. It seems harder than all the things he's ever had to walk away from in his life. And Jim doesn't make it easy. He stands there waiting for Leonard to make a choice.

Leonard goes to Jim, gently putting an arm around his waist, careful of his bloody side. "Come on. You need to lie down." Jim looks at him and Leonard can see the shock, the fact that Jim expected him to walk away from all this. "Stop staring and walk," Leonard says. "Spock, give me a hand here."

Between them, Spock and Leonard get Jim up the stairs, into his bedroom and onto the bed. Jim closes his eyes and turns onto his side the moment he lies down. Leonard goes into the bathroom, grabbing a bunch of towels, wetting one of them. In the bedroom he can hear Jim's quiet murmuring, discreet instructions for Spock. Predictably, Spock is gone when Leonard walks back into the bedroom.

Leonard goes to sit beside Jim, finding him lying there with his eyes closed. He gently nudges Jim's chin with his knuckles. "Hey, come on, wake up there."

Jim opens his eyes, barely, blinking at Leonard. Leonard reaches for the shirt, unbuttoning it to see the damage. Would it be wrong to hope this is all someone else's blood? The shirt unbuttoned, Leonard starts opening it up, only to be stopped by Jim's hand on his wrist.

"Leave it," Jim says. "Doctor's on her way."

"I just want to see," Leonard whispers, pulling away from Jim's grip, peeling back the shirt.

Jim's pale skin is discolored by a pink tinge of blood, streaks that have dried and fresh blood which is still oozing from a small neat hole in his side. Leonard feels giddy looking at it and clenches his jaw.

"You should be in a hospital," Leonard says.

"Don't worry. Chapel can deal with this," Jim says, unable to hold back the tremor in his voice.

"You're a damn fool, you know that?" Leonard says, pressing one of the towels to the wound, hating the way Jim flinches and swallows down the moan of pain.

I can't do this, Leonard thinks. "I can't--"

"He killed my father," Jim says weakly, his bloody fingers reaching for Leonard's hand. "Bones, he killed my father."

Leonard takes Jim's hand in his own, watching as the other man squeezes his eyes tight against the pain, turning his face into the pillow.

"It's okay," Leonard whispers. "I'm right here, Jim."

And against all his will, he finds himself asking someone 'please let him be okay'.

*

Later, when Chapel has come and gone, Jim is sedated and cleaned up, Leonard sits on the bed, looking over the sleeping figure. Jim will die like this one day, he thinks. Someone's bullet or knife will take Jim away. And he'll be left floundering in a place where he can't look for comfort or scream in anger at God, because Leonard's the one who walked away, even if he ultimately walked away from nothing.

Leonard moves down the bed, turning towards Jim, careful not to jostle him, content to just lie there with him. Eventually his eyes drift shut and he's heading for St. Mary's, watching it slowly grow larger and larger as he nears, until he's standing on the bottom steps and looking up at the large looming building.

He has no idea what he's doing here. All he knows is he feels so much anger his heart just might break into a million pieces. He looks at the church doors and is so sure someone is behind them. Someone is there. Has to be. Please let there be someone there.

"Just give me a sign," Leonard whispers. And then he's shouting at the top of his voice, "Where are you?" There's no response, just silence. The church continues to stand over Leonard, intimidating and unapproachable. "What do I have to do?" Leonard whispers, stumbling back.

Suddenly he's standing wrapped in Jim's arms, Jim who holds him tight and whispers into his ear, "Don't go."

Leonard sits up with a choked sob, shaking hard and afraid the noise erupting at the back of his throat will wake Jim. His face is wet and his heart seems to be beating out of control. When Jim does stir next to him, Leonard is almost relieved, the dark and its secrets clawing at him.

"Bones?" Jim asks sleepily.

Leonard lies down, finding Jim's cheek in the dark, pressing a kiss. "Yeah. Right here."

Jim seems content enough with the answer and becomes silent again, but not before Leonard takes his hand tightly and turns his back on his demons for the night.

*

It's almost a blessing in disguise that Jim is bedridden for a few days. How much trouble can he get himself into from his bed? Not much under Spock's watchful eye. Leonard shuts up shop exactly on time during this days and then drives straight to Jim, spending his nights reassuring himself that Jim is alive and well.

It's almost a week after Jim got shot that someone cuts Leonard up, before swerving to block the road. Leonard frowns, peering past the moving windscreen wipers and pouring rain. He sees a man get out of the car, coming to stand in the middle of the deserted road. He has a large build, the kind of body that looks as if it's all muscle under the long black coat. The man points at Leonard, beckoning for him to come out of the car. Leonard figures if he was going to die tonight, he wouldn't still be sitting here wondering about it.

He gets out of the car and into the onslaught of ice cold rain. Turning the collars up on his jacket, he holds them closed at the neck while shielding his eyes from the rain with his other arm, taking tentative steps towards the other man. Leonard can see the car blocking the road isn't unoccupied.

“What do you want?” Leonard asks, having to raise his voice above the sound of rain and gurgling sky.

The man tilts his head and smiles, completely undisturbed the rain that's plastered his dark black hair to his skull. “I'd simply like to introduce myself to you, Father,” he says, his voice low and rough.

“There's nothing simple about this set up,” Leonard says, bringing his arm down, the battle against the rain lost.

The man steps closer. Leonard can see tattoos that mark part of his face. The stranger says, “I want you to deliver a message to Kirk.”

“You've heard of a telephone, haven't you?”

The stranger laughs. It's the way his face goes from easy laughter to stiff rage that Leonard knows to brace for impact. The fist lands on half of his face, sending him crashing to the ground. He's winded for a moment, but when he gets his breath back he looks up defiantly.

“How about you try that without your goons around sometime?”

Nero shakes his head, clearly amused. “You don't understand, Father. I have no quarrel with you. My quarrel is with Kirk and Spock. You? You're just the messenger. _You_ tell them they're dead men. And tell them I won't think twice about taking away the things they love, _Father_.”

“That supposed to scare me?” Leonard asks.

The man reaches into his coat and pulls out a gun, pointing it at Leonard's head. “Tell them you met Nero and tell them I held a loaded gun to your head and thought about sending my message pinned to your dead body.” Leonard stars up at Nero, past the gun and into his shadowy eyes. He says nothing. Nero laughs and says, “Let me guess. You're praying for my soul.”

Leonard shakes his head slowly. “You'd be surprised.”

“Priest and bed warmer,” Nero says. “I really wouldn't be. You have a good evening now.”

Nero turns and leaves, getting into the car blocking the road. Someone leans out of the window on the passenger side and the next thing Leonard hears is the loud sound of gunshots, explosions directly behind him. They've blown out the tires on his car.

Leonard sits there near ten minutes, listening to the heavy clouds releasing their burdens, washing away the blood from his lip, leaving only the faintest taste of metal in his mouth. Slowly he rises and goes back to the car, closing the door behind him. He sits there and grips the steering wheel hard, realizing after a while that his mind is scrambling for prayer, but he seems to have forgotten them all.

*

Leonard sneaks in quietly when he makes it to the house. He can hear voices in Jim's office and decides to clean up before going to Jim.

“Oh my God, Leonard,” Uhura says just as he reaches the end of the hall and takes one step towards the stairs. Leonard holds up a finger to his mouth and nods towards the main living room. Stepping inside, but not completely closing the door, he says, “I don't want this getting back to Jim. Or Spock for that matter.”

“What happened?” Uhura demands sternly.

“I had a run in with Nero,” Leonard says quietly. “He wanted to send a message.” Uhura steps towards the door, but Leonard blocks her path. “Listen to me. If you tell them, they'll get out there and go after Nero and that's what he wants. They'll get themselves killed.”

Uhura laughs, shaking her head. “Then you don't know them.”

“I know Jim,” Leonard says.

“And I know Spock,” Uhura says. “He wouldn't let Kirk do anything stupid or hotheaded.”

“You think Spock is beyond a lapse in judgment?” Leonard asks. Uhura has no response. Leonard can see a small seed of doubt. There is some reason why Nero might get to Spock, just like he gets to Jim. “Nero's trying to start something here. Don't give him the satisfaction.”

Uhura grimaces, rubbing her forehead. “What are you going to tell Kirk?”

Leonard shakes his head. “I'll think of something. Just make sure this doesn't get back to Jim and Spock.”

“I am sorry, but what do you hope doesn't get back to Jim or myself?” Leonard turns to see Spock in the doorway, immaculate as ever. He can feel Uhura tense next to him. “Nyota?.”

“Spock--” Leonard begins.

“I was not talking to you,” Spock says smoothly.

Uhura throws up a hand in Leonard's direction. “Nero did this. Apparently he wants to send you and Kirk a message.”

Spock doesn't change much, but Leonard can see a strange hardening in his dark eyes, his face becoming even less endowed with expression than usual. “What did he say?”

Uhura shakes her head. “I don't know.”

Spock turns to Leonard, waiting patiently. When Leonard doesn't answer, Spock says, “It is probably similar to most of his messages.” His eyes on Leonard's aching face, he asks, “He did this to you?” When Leonard doesn't reply, Spock says, “Of course. It is a specialty of Nero's to strike where people are weakest.”

“Are you going to tell Kirk?” Uhura asks.

Spock seems to take the longest time in deliberating over his decision. Then he looks at Leonard and says, “I won't have to.”

*

All hell breaks loose. Jim believes Leonard's story about a car accident for about five seconds before pointing out that most people in car accidents don't look as if they took a punch to the face. This leads him to demand who attacked Leonard and then to ask why Leonard would cover it up. When Uhura and Spock remain too quiet during in the interrogation, Jim stares at them and utters one single word.

“Nero.”

Ten minutes later everyone is trailing behind Jim as he stalks through the house with a murderous look and deadly intent in his eyes.

“This is not a wise decision,” Spock says, right behind him. “You are still recovering from your injury. Not only that, but you are also playing into Nero's hands. This is exactly what he wants.”

“I don't give a damn, Spock,” Jim says, taking out his gun and checking the clip.

Uhura inserts herself between Jim and Spock, pulling Jim around hard. “This is insane. He's going to kill you. You're doing exactly what he wants you to do.”

Jim's eyes look bright and feverish as he stares at Uhura. “The message he sent on McCoy's face says he thinks he can take whatever he wants from me.” He looks at Spock. “From you.”

Spock is unreadable, but Leonard sees the way he swallows down some emotion. “I still advise you against immediate action. He is most certainly waiting for us.”

“Jim,” Leonard says for the first time since his lover stormed off. He steps closer to Jim, Uhura and Spock moving aside, giving Jim no choice but to hear and see Leonard.

Leonard slowly reaches for Jim's hand, the one tightly gripping a gun. At first it looks as though Jim won't let go, his hold on the gun tight. But then Leonard holds Jim's hand in one of his own and pries the gun away with his other hand, watching the frustrated look that appears on Jim's face. Leonard passes the gun to Spock who immediately clicks the safety on.

Jim stiffly moves away from them all and walks into his office. Something smashes a moment later. Uhura takes a step forward, but Spock puts a hand on her arm and shakes his head. They both turn and look at Leonard.

*

“Tell me, word for word,” Jim asks harshly, after a too long stretch of silence. His eyes are so hard and intense that Leonard glimpses a million universes where there isn't much difference between Nero and Jim.

Leonard nods slowly. “He said to tell you you're dead men. He won't think twice about taking away the things you love.”

Jim's eyes seem to glisten. “What else?”

“Jim, please,” Leonard implores. “Don't do this--”

“What else?” Jim repeats, face hard and closed off. “You tell me, Bones, or I ask Nero myself.”

Leonard rubs at his face. Feeling emotionally and physically drained. “He said to tell you that he pointed a loaded gun at my head and thought about sending his message pinned to my dead body. There wasn't any more.”

Jim turns away from Leonard. He stands there leaning over his desk for the longest time before he moves again, going to the door and locking it. He walks straight towards Leonard, both his hands taking Leonard's face and drawing him into a hungry kiss. Leonard can feel the slightest of tremors coursing through Jim. They could be anger, lust, fear. It's hard to tell. He just goes with Jim's demands, stripping off his shirt when Jim pulls at the opening, falling back on the couch when Jim gently pushes. Jim's hands go to his belt, button and zipper, while Leonard squeezes Jim's thighs, the heat of his body burning through the material of his pants. Soon Jim's undone his own pants too and his shirt is wide open and exposing a neat white bandage taped over his side.

Leonard looks at it and his fingers reach out to touch. Jim catches his hand at the wrist and brings it up to his face where Leonard cups his cheek. Jim turns his face into the palm, kissing it slowly as his eyes close. He lies down, letting Leonard pull him closer, his hands stroking and touching wherever they can reach while Leonard smooths his hands down Jim's back, pushing down his pants and boxers. From there they move against each other, rubbing fast but still too slow, Jim's face buried in the crook of Leonard's neck, his shoulders sweaty and hot under Leonard's hands.

Leonard comes first, arching up into Jim with a tight breathless gasp, his hand tightening in Jim's hair. Moment's later it's Jim who stills and slumps silently on top of Leonard, his arm curving around Leonard's face, his fingers possessively in his hair. Jim's mouth is pressed to Leonard's cheek.

"Don't go after him, Jim," Leonard whispers. "Please. Promise me you won't."

Jim doesn't answer, but his hold on Leonard tightens and Leonard accepts it as an answer to his prayer.

*

It takes Leonard fifteen minutes of staring at the church before he can find the nerve to climb the stairs and walk in. Chris sees him from where stands by the altar, his eyes widening a little and a smile appearing on his face. Leonard finds a smile for the other man, walking towards him. Chris doesn't wait for Leonard to reach him, closing the gap in a few strides.

A twinkle in his eyes, he looks up at the rafters and says, “Told you he'd be back.”

*

Leonard sits in the small kitchen at the square wooden table, Chris pouring two cups of coffee at the counter behind him. A moment later he places Leonard's cup before him and sits down.

“How have you been?” he asks.

Leonard nods. “Okay.”

Chris nods back in approval. “That's good. Right?”

Leonard lets out a huff of laughter. “I don't know. Maybe.”

The smile on Chris's face is weak, sad perhaps. “Are you still seeing Jim?” Leonard can't quite bring himself to look Chris in the eyes. He nods though, before taking a sip of his scalding coffee. “How's that working out for you?”

“I think you can hazard a pretty good guess,” Leonard says, meeting Chris's eyes. Chris sighs and leans back, his hand wrapped around the mug of coffee before him. Leonard watches him. “What? No 'told you so'?”

“No,” Chris says simply. He frowns, giving Leonard a long look. “Jim is... troubled. Maybe you're what he needs.”

Leonard stares at Chris, shaking his head, feeling his face heating up. “I broke a vow. I turned my back on everything I believed in and... and you're telling me I might be good for a criminal who'll probably die with a bullet to the brain,” he chokes on the last few words, the muscles of his mouth feeling lax, tremors running under his bottom lip.

Leonard shakes his head, slamming his elbow on the table and covering his face with one hand, and then the other. He just sits there for a few moments, taking deep breaths and rubbing the evidence of his distress into the palms of his hands. After a while he takes a shuddering breath, wipes at his face and looks at Chris again. Chris has a patient and gentle look on his face.

Leonard swallows, his throat feeling painfully tight. “There's a man. Nero. He--”

“Killed Jim's father, I know. Killed Spock's mother too. Spock had quite the promising career in the clergy before Nero.” Chris says. He smiles when Leonard stares, dumfounded. “I've known them a long time. Before they were big shots.”

“Nero?” Leonard asks.

“He's been here,” Chris says, his expression somewhat tighter. “He likes to scare people.”

Leonard nods at Chris. “Jim and he are out for each other's blood. One of them's going to die.” Chris nods blankly. “I don't know what to do,” Leonard says. “There's not a thing I _can_ do.”

“Sure you can,” Chris says simply. “You can pray it won't be Jim.”

Leonard feels the weight of the world crushing down on his brain as he frowns. “My God, man, are you listening to anything I'm saying here?”

Chris leans forward, utterly serious. “You're not the one listening. I'm telling you there's a place for you here. A sanctuary. Come back.”

Leonard shakes his head, feeling breathless. “I can't... I don't know-- I...” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens his eyes he looks directly into Chris's gaze. “What about Jim? How I feel about him, that's who I am. Getting away from him won't kill that part of me. God knows I've tried enough times.”

“I'm not asking you to give up anything,” Chris says, looking away, taking a drink from his mug.

“But you know--”

“I don't know anything you don't tell me,” Chris says firmly. “God? He sees and knows everything. Me? I'm just a man.”

Leonard stares at him. “You're a manipulative son of a bitch is what you are.”

Chris shrugs and smiles. “Maybe that too.

*

Jim turns up at three in the morning. Leonard first hears the screech of tires from the car dropping him off, followed by Jim opening the door moments later, somewhat aggressively, slamming it shut no gentler. Finally the door to Leonard's bedroom opens and Jim comes to bed, not bothering to take off his long wet coat or even his shoes. He smells like rain and underneath that he smells of smoke.

Jim throws an arm across Leonard's chest, his face in the crook of Leonard's neck. Jim is quite content to lay there without offering a single word. Leonard sighs, but a moment later his arm is curling around Jim of its own accord.

“Get out of those clothes will you?” Leonard whispers quietly.

Jim mumbles something about being tired, a dead weight on Leonard's side. Finally, Leonard extricates himself from Jim's heavy limp hold. He starts by making quick work of ridding Jim of his boots. Then he undoes Jim's pants and yanks them down and off. Jim provides some assistance by sitting up out of his coat and then unbuttoning his shirt. He's half way through sliding the shirt off when Leonard gets the sudden urge to kiss him.

Ever receptive, Jim's hands go to Leonard's shoulders as Leonard presses his body against Jim's, pushing it flat against the bed, Jim still in his shirt and boxers, smelling of rain and crime. Lying against Jim, Leonard takes the longest time in tasting the slow kisses as Jim's hands begin to creep under Leonard's t-shirt. Jim sighs against his mouth when they part for a moment, his eyes lazily blinking shut. Leonard presses his mouth against Jim's temple, lying there covering him, as if this might stop Jim from running back into his dangerous life,

“What's the bad news?” Jim whispers, his fingers loosely curled under Leonard's t-shirt.

“I went to see Chris,” Leonard says quietly.

“Ah,” Jim says. His face turns closer, Leonard's mouth being pushed away so he's forced to look down at a pair of sharp eyes that manage to catch all the moonlight breaking into the dark of the bedroom. Jim laughs, sounding genuinely amused. “You realize you're leaving me for someone who doesn't exist, you know?”

“Who said anything about leaving?” Leonard asks, his heart thumping uncomfortably loud in his chest.

Jim is quiet, the brightness of his smile slowly fading, so only his eyes are left as the feint reflectors of light in the room. “What are you talking about?” he asks, sounding tired.

Leonard lets his fingers card through Jim's hair, his hold tightening enough that Jim flinches under him. “This isn't wrong,” he whispers over Jim's mouth. “How is this wrong?”

Jim swallows audibly. “It isn't.”

Jim's body relaxes beneath Leonard and his arms tighten around Leonard's waist, his lips finding Leonard's mouth, coaxing him into long kiss with a possessiveness that makes Leonard certain he couldn't leave Jim if he tried.

*

Looking up at the familiar sight of the crucifix behind the altar, Leonard wonders what he's doing back here, the collar snug around his throat. There's a rightness, a wrongness, a rightness to all of this. It has Leonard confused and dizzy.

“Why are you here, again?” Jim asks, sitting close by at the end of a row of pews, sprawled with one leg out in the aisle and eyes blinking thoughtfully at the crucified man, still up there suffering for the sins of mankind.

“I don't know,” Leonard says.

“I thought you didn't believe anymore,” Jim says, sounding sullen.

Leonard doesn't say anything, but sitting in the pews on his left is Spock, who shifts and says, “Sometimes hating and believing are the same thing.”

Behind him, Uhura asks, “Who said anything about hating?”

“A logical deduction,” Spock says quietly, his eyes lingering on the crucified man at whom they're all gawking. He looks up at Leonard with an arched brow and says, “You do often appear to have some anger management issues.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Leonard all but growls at Spock, who has the slightest smile at the upturned corner of his mouth.

“I think it means you're a cantankerous old fart, Bones,” Jim says, grinning with too much amusement.

“Ignore them, Leonard,” Uhura says smoothly. “Believe me, they're not exactly zen masters themselves.”

Spock continues to look amused, while Jim sends Uhura a half-hearted look of irritation, which she simply brushes off with a smile.

“Well, look at this,” Chris says from behind them. They turn to see him in the middle of the aisle, completely unafraid of whatever joy he feels at seeing them here. “You know, I'm going to start writing a diary, just to preserve this moment.” Then he looks at Leonard seriously. “Be sure to check nothing's missing after they leave.”

Leonard snorts, while Uhura actually looks shocked, if not offended. Jim smiles the remark off, while it's hard to tell what Spock is thinking as he rises to his feet, hands clasped behind his back. He nods to Chris.

“You're a sight for sore eyes, Spock,” Chris says as simply and easily as he might say 'look, the sun is shining'. “You should come by more often.” Spock opens his mouth to speak, but Chris shakes his head and says, “Don't give me that crap about there being nothing here for you, kid. There's always something here for you.”

Spock straightens up, which Leonard has taken to mean a deflection of some emotion or other. He gives Chris a nod and very calmly says, “I will keep that in mind, Father.”

Chris nods. “Now, how about you all get out of here so some of us can do our work.” Spock nods, walking on with Uhura by his side. Jim gets up to follow, but Chris holds on to his arm and very quietly, trying to be out of earshot, tells Jim, “I bumped into Winona. Why don't you think about giving her a call some time?”

The request is more than cordial, but Jim glares daggers at Chris before a tight smile spreads across his face. “Why don't you let go of my arm?”

Chris lets go, holding up both hands, while Jim belligerently smooths down the unwrinkled sleeve of his coat. He throws Leonard a look and some parting words. “Talk to you later.”

Jim stalks off to where Uhura and Spock are waiting. Chris watches them leave together before turning to Leonard with a small smile.

“What was that about?” Leonard asks.

Chris gives Leonard one of his calm and evasive smiles, “Before your time. Come on, I want to talk to you about the soup kitchen.”

Leonard lets Chris lead him away, but his mind wanders back to the flicker of pain on Jim's face, right before he let his anger take over, like always.

*

“You're going to choke if you're not careful.”

Leonard and Jim are walking down the busy street in the center of town. It's a cold Winter day and the overcast sky promises more cold, rain and similar. Leonard has his black coat buttoned all the way to the top, right over the white stripe that gives away his calling. Next to him Jim has his long gray coat open, flying away at his sides as he walks along demolishing a bright red apple. The snug sweater over his shirt can't be keeping that much cold out. Leonard shoots Jim an annoyed look.

“What?” Jim says, mouth full. “I'm hungry.” Leonard snorts, fighting against the pull of a smile on his mouth. Jim swallows the mouthful and shoots Leonard a provocative look. “Hey, I can't help having a healthy appetite.”

Leonard actually says, “Ha!” at that. “Your appetites are anything but healthy, Jim.” Jim laughs and takes another bite. Leonard figures this is as good a time as any to broach the subject of his current interest. “So, what was that thing with you and Chris, back at the church?”

“What thing?” Jim asks, his eyes scanning the street. It may look as though they're both out for a carefree afternoon stroll, but Leonard is well aware that Sulu or Scotty are out there somewhere, waiting in a car to be there as soon as Jim needs them.

“Winona,” Leonard says. “Old friend?”

Jim shakes his head. He finishes his apple, before cutting across Leonard to toss the remaining core into a trash can. Leonard rolls his eyes and comes to a stop before Jim is ready to resume walking at his side.

“Don't know what you're talking about,” Jim says casually, like he has no problem with this line of questioning. Like he didn't glare daggers at Chris when her name came up.

“Sure you don't,” Leonard says. “What's the big secret? Don't tell me you got a wife and kids hidden away somewhere.”

Jim smiles and says. “Yeah, I don't think so.”

“Fine, keep your damn secret,” Leonard says with a shake of his head.

“You know, if you like unraveling secrets so much, why don't we look at some of yours? I don't see you talking about everything I don't know about you.” Jim finally gets defensive.

Leonard shrugs. “Fine, ask. I'll tell you anything you want to know.” _Unlike you_, which is the unspoken accusation.

Jim's face goes slightly blank as he stares at Leonard. Leonard shrugs again. Not much to be said after that. Jim looks away and reaches into his pocket to pull on a leather glove. Leonard's guessing this is a cue for one of the getaway cars to turn up.

No sooner has he thought it, a black Sedan seems to drive up out of nowhere and pull up to the sidewalk. Leonard bends and looks at the driver seat, giving Scotty an acknowledging nod. Scotty shoots him a one-fingered salute, the barest tap to his temple.

“We'll drop you off,” Jim says, opening a door and waiting for Leonard.

Leonard shakes his head. “It's okay. I can do with the exercise. You go. I'll catch up with you later.”

Jim gives Leonard a slight frown and then nods, getting into the car. Leonard smiles reassuringly at him when the window winds down, but it's not enough to rid Jim of the troubled look in his eyes.

*

Later, Leonard is handing out bowls of soup and bread rolls. The soup kitchen will close at nine and then all these people will go back out onto the street and he'll go home to bed. It gets harder to hand out every bowl, especially when one woman takes the bowl and smiles at him, telling him, "God bless you."

Leonard wants to tell her that God's not paying for any of this. In fact, one of the benefactors is sitting a few tables away, wearing old black jeans, white T-shirt and battered black leather jacket. Leonard watches him closely as he talks to a young man who is barely out of his teens. Chris has mentioned this boy before. He turns up for food, but shuts down the moment anyone asks questions or offers to direct him towards more help.

Jim is sitting with him, picking at his own bread roll, idly chewing as he talks to the kid. He's got the kid's attention though. Leonard tries to think what Jim could possibly say to get that quiet still attentive look. It has his heart speed up a little. The kid's in a bad place, the bruises on his face give that much away. What he doesn't need is the devil disguised as an angel of mercy to offer him an out that will lead to a prison cell or early grave.

Leonard excuses himself from serving, pulling away his white apron and leaving it on a table as he heads toward Jim. "Word in your ear," he says, grabbing Jim by the arm and hauling him up before pulling him out into the quiet hall."

"What the hell, Bones?" Jim says, angrily pulling away.

"Ricky doesn't need your help. Whatever's wrong with his life isn't going to be solved my joining your band of merry men. Stay away from that kid," Leonard says. "I know you mean well--"

"You don't know anything," Jim says, his voice hard, face flushed pink. "Don't you ever put your hands on me like that again."

Jim shoves past Leonard and then disappears down the hall. Leonard rubs at his face, letting out a breath and returns to the kitchen. Ricky's still there, but now Chris is sitting with him, frown on his face as he listens, Ricky staring at his hands in his lap as he talks. After a good twenty minutes, Chris leans in and places his hand on the boy's shoulder, offering a gentle smile before getting up and walking towards Leonard.

Leonard nods at him. "Everything okay?"

Chris sighs, shaking his head. "He's sixteen next month." Leonard looks at the boy. Sixteen and sleeping rough. "Says he can't go home. It's not safe there."

Leonard stares at Chris. "Why tell you after all this time?"

Chris shrugs. "I guess it was just the right time. I've got to make a few calls, see if I can get him a place to stay. While he still wants our help."

Leonard nods as Chris rushes off. Ricky is sitting at one of the foldout tables looking miserable and tired. It's strange how now he suddenly does look his age. Leonard goes to him, stopping at a respectable distance.

"Chris's gone to make some calls," he says.

Ricky looks up with bruised looking eyes. "Yeah," he said. "Where's Jim? How come you dragged him out like that?"

Leonard takes a deep breath. He shakes his head slowly. "I dunno. Maybe it's because I'm an asshole." Ricky frowns and then laughs. It's a beautiful thing to see this broken boy smile. Leonard's reckless heart thanks all the wrong people from sheer habit. "What'd he say to you?"

Ricky frowns, like he's recalling the words. "He said, if I don't feel safe at home, I should find a new home. Said it's not my fault. Not to beat myself up about it." Ricky looked up at Leonard with confusion. "I never even told him what _it_ was."

Leonard nods and then says with a voice that sounds as if it's being scraped out of his throat, "I'll see how Chris is coming along. Get yourself another roll. You're too skinny."

Back out in the hall, Leonard pulls at the white collar, unbuttoning the top of his shirt until he doesn't feel like he's burning up, back in that place of anger, where there is rage, but no idea of at whom it should be directed.

*

There's a poker game in progress at Jim's place. Everyone around the table looks miserable. With the exception of Spock who just looks like Spock. "Let me take a wild guess at who's winning here."

Scotty looks up at Leonard, utterly unamused. "At this rate it's going to have to turn into strip poker."

"I would not oppose this development," Chekov says with a grin, earning a shake of the head from Uhura.

"Jim not playing?" Leonard asks as casually as he can muster.

Uhura has an amused smile on his face. "No. Said he felt like a swim."

"He still in the pool?" Leonard asked.

"Yeah, but you might not want to go in there. He looks sore about something," Sulu says, frowning at his cards.

Leonard heads for the door. "You people have a good game. And try not to look so surprised when Spock wins.

Some groaning and snorting follows him out of the room as he heads down the hall and to the back of the house. Outside, the air is chilly and the heated pool is giving off a slight steamy mist. Everything beyond the bright lights around the pool looks dark and faraway from here. Leonard sighs and sits down at the end of a poolside lounger, hands clasped before him as he watches Jim slice through the water. The way his arms rotate into the water is heavy and violent.

After a moment Leonard runs a hand through his hair and gets up, walking along the side of the pool and towards the end where Jim is headed. He waits there, watching Jim swim as if the force of his strokes might take him right through the concrete wall of the pool. Jim reaches the edge and his hands come up over the side, splashing water over Leonard's shoes. Jim leans into the edge of the pool, breathing hard, hands clinging to the side.

"Here," Leonard says, leaning down and holding out a hand.

Jim looks up at Leonard and his eyes a cool blue, mouth slightly open as he gets his breath back. He squeezes his eyes shut before blinking away the water. He says, "Winona Kirk is my mother. Pike's working on a reconciliation, only he has no idea she told me to get the hell out of her house and never come back."

"Jim, you don't have to--"

"He thinks I don't want to see her," Jim says, frowning at something past Leonard's legs. "I went to see her once. She told me it was a good thing my father wasn't around to see me like this. Never occurred to her that if he had been around, maybe I wouldn't... And I have a brother, Sam. He has a wife and two kids. I don't know what they look like." Jim looks up at Leonard,looking worn out. "What else do you want to know?"

"Frank," Leonard says quietly, not sure what he's asking.

Jim has a hard look on his face. He says, "Don't worry about him. I learned to hit back pretty fast." Jim climbs out of the pool, ignoring Leonard's helping hand. He stands up in front of Leonard and says, "I told him to get help, that kid. It's all I did. I'm not running a recruitment drive for the desperate and I'm not out to corrupt _anyone_."

Leonard looks away and nods. "I know. I'm sorry."

Jim is staring at Leonard, his gaze making Leonard look up. "This thing we have? You know why it works? You know what I am. And you know what I'm not. At least I thought you did."

"I also know you have your own sense of justice, Jim. All I could see was that kid growing up to be angry and reckless. I can't make the bad things that happened to you go away, but... one Jim Kirk is enough."

Jim tilts his head and smirks at Leonard. "Bones, you're not feeling sorry for me are you? I'm a big boy. I can look after myself."

Leonard looks at Jim standing there, tall and straight and confident. An arrogance and self-assured aura about him, one that fools them all. Leonard sighs and steps forward, putting his arms around Jim. Jim lets out a small shocked laugh, before one of his arms come up and reciprocates the hug.

"Bones," Jim quietly whispers in Leonard's ear. Leonard can't even remember how this stupid nickname started, but it makes the world seem right when Jim calls him by this name. Like this is how it should be. What have you done to me, Leonard wants to ask, a moment later unsure of at whom that question is directed. "I'm ruining your clothes."

"Doesn't matter."

Jim pulls back enough so they are momentarily cheek to cheek, before he slips his mouth in front of Leonard's and invites him into a kiss. The night air is cool and Jim's skin reacting to the breeze, but he seems content to stand there kissing Leonard for as long as they have.

*

Leonard walks up the steps of the church next morning. It's a picture perfect morning. Crisp and cold, sunny and cloudless. Ricky would have had a place to sleep last night and Chris would have ended his day secure in the knowledge that God works in mysterious ways. Jim is probably in bed, worn out and asleep, the sheets coiled around his waist, lying where Leonard left him with a kiss to the nape of his neck. And Leonard is entering this church, the usual turmoil and confusion buzzing low and quiet in his chest, somewhere in the background for now.

Inside it's quiet and serene. Leonard feels that reverence that comes with moments of peace, but he knows this same place has filled him with rage at times. He's half-way up the aisle when he hears the shrill sound of a cellphone. Frowning, Leonard looks about at the pews, finally realizing the sound is coming from up ahead. Following the sound, he finds the small black phone at the edge of the first pew, shuddering against the wooden seat. The phone stops ringing, but there's a short buzz instead.

Leonard flips open the phone and reads the message.

See you in confession - hopefully you'll be as good a listener as Pike

Leonard slowly flips it shut. The he turns around and looks at the church anew. The quiet is less serene now and more frightening. One of the doors to the confessional catches his attention, slightly ajar. He walks towards it despite how reluctant he feels, feet heavy and slow. As he comes around the pews, the bottom half of the confessional comes into view as well as the puddle of blood that has leaked out from inside the confessional.

Leonard makes some kind of sound, some unintelligible word slipping from his mouth as the phone drops from his hand. He stumbles towards the confessional, shoes slipping in the blood. Pushing the door aside he has to cover his mouth with his hand, bile rising in his stomach immediately, eyes stinging with tears. He doesn't know whether to go forward and touch or to step back and turn away from the bloody sight of Chris's body slumped back as if he's simply sleeping. There's a note pinned to his chest, but it's just a piece of paper with nothing written on it. It doesn't need to have anything written on it.

Unable to step closer, Leonard stumbles back, slipping in the blood and falling. His hands come away red and he wipes them on his pant legs in disgust, his vision blurred and breath short.

All the time he mumbles a litany of "God, no, please, no."

*

"... hopefully we'll be able to get a trace on the phone..." someone is saying to Leonard. He's not listening anymore. He sits at the small kitchen table, senses still overpowered by the look and smell of blood. "Sir?" Leonard looks up and mutely stares at the detective before him. The detective looks troubled and sympathetic at once. He sighs and says, "I'll have someone drive you home. We'll let you know when it's okay to come back here." Leonard nods, his insides feeling leaden and watery at the same time.

Outside, it's not even noon yet. The sun has risen further, the chill isn't so bad. But Leonard wants it to be that moment again, before he stepped into the church and the world was perfect for a while. At the bookstore, he walks past the hired help in a daze, police escort taking him all the way up the stairs into his apartment. When he leaves, it's with a polite nod. Leonard phones downstairs into the shop and tells them to shut up for the day, maybe even tomorrow, he doesn't care.

He takes off his jacket, heading for the shower. In the bathroom he catches his reflection and then stares. He remembers someone handing him a wet towel to clean his face from where he smeared blood. There's none left on his face. It's just smeared across his collar now, looking obscenely red against the white. Leonard reaches with fingers still tainted with dried blood, touching the stain.

Slowly, he pulls away the collar and places it in the sink, letting it drown in the hot water before he undresses and steps into the shower, scrubbing away every reminder of Chris's death. After a long shower, he tiredly pulls on a pair of old jeans and a beat up sweater. He's rummaging through his drawers for socks when he hears the rattle of a key in the lock of his front door. It sounds impatient and hurried.

Leonard walks out into the living room and stands there watching the door, silent as Jim rushes in breathlessly and then stops inches away, breathing hard. The only other sounds in the room are from the traffic outside and the keys dangling in the lock, swinging back and forth. Jim and Leonard have nothing but silence for each other.

"I thought it was you," Jim says after a while. "When I heard."

Leonard shakes his head. "Chris."

Jim swallows, nodding. Leonard can see a million possibilities scroll through Jim's mind, the way his eyes can't seem to focus on any one place. He turns to leave. Leonard darts past him, blocking the door and grabbing Jim by the arm, looking him straight in the eyes. Jim's gaze is as cold as ice. Leonard let's go of his arm and his hand goes to Jim's face, cupping one side. He knows his hold on Jim is tight, painful maybe, but right now if he doesn't hold onto something, Leonard might just fly apart.

"I asked you to promise me you wouldn't go after him," Leonard says, his voice low. Jim clenches his jaw, eyes glittering with rage and age old grief. Leonard closes the gap between them. Jim's hands are tight fists at his sides and Leonard is still holding Jim's face. "I take it back. Just promise you'll come back in one piece. You hear me?" Jim nods slowly, his face like a stone mask.

Leonard turns and pulls out the keys from the door before shutting it and turning back to Jim. He closes his hand around Jim's fist, forcing it to open as he kisses him, forcing Jim to release the breath he's been holding, forcing the rigid lines of his body to melt as he embraces him.

"Stay here tonight," Leonard whispers. "Please."

Jim nods and Leonard kisses his way into Jim's slowly relenting mouth.

*

Jim's home has taken on the appearance of a mansion of misery. Everyone here knew Chris, some more than others. They're all still in their mourning clothes, even though Jim and his entourage had to pay their respects after Chris's family and friends had left the graveside.

Jim is seated behind the desk he barely uses, one hand around the glass of whiskey before him. Seated on the other side of the desk are Sulu and Chekov, both looking somber. Spock looks more numb than controlled, standing behind Jim, eyes on something outside the window, while Uhura is seated on the couch, worried eyes on Spock, Scotty next to her, finishing off a drink in one large gulp. Leonard stands by the door, watching them all, arms folded across his chest.

"Someone took the security cameras out before it happened," Scotty says flatly. "Nero's men could have walked in and out of the back and no one would have seen."

"No," Spock says evenly. "Nero did this himself. His men disabled the cameras. He walked in like anyone else would. Sat inside the confessional and spoke to Father Pike before he shot him. Then he waited close by to make sure Father McCoy would receive the message promptly."

"But according to the police reports no one saw anything," Chekov says. Leonard frowns at him, but Chekov makes a typing motion to indicate one of his many skills.

Sulu pulls a face. "Nero probably bought the witnesses. Or the police. He's capable of both."

Leonard's listening to Sulu, but his eyes move to Jim's still expression, the way his eyes are drinking the whiskey instead of his mouth and the way Spock hasn't moved from his position, hands clasped behind his back.

"You two have a plan, don't you?" Uhura asks, looking displeased rather than worried. Spock's head turns in her direction slightly, before he eyes her. Jim looks at her too, apologetic. "I'm not going to like this."

When Jim's gaze turns to Leonard, he says, "I don't think any of us are going to like this."

*

It takes some patience, some time, but Leonard finally sees Nero walk into St. Mary's. He strides in with one of his men in tow. Leonard knows there's a car outside waiting for him and Nero knows this is all the protection he needs for a church visit.

Leonard sees him murmur a prayer before genuflecting. Leonard looks at him and heads to the confessional, passing Nero's sentry on the way.

"You're still here," Nero says inside.

"Were you expecting me to go somewhere?" Leonard asks.

"A smart man would have left by now. Stick around Kirk and his friends too long, they'll be needing a new priest for this place."

Leonard clenches his jaw, trying to stay calm. "What do you want?"

"What I've always wanted. Kirk and Spock, alone and miserable, watching everyone they care about die," Nero says quietly. "How's that for a confession?"

"Is that what you told Chris?"

"No," Nero whispers. "I confessed my crime before I committed it. He knew he was going to die."

Leonard shuts his eyes against the sting, swallowing hard. "That why you're here? To kill me too?"

"No, of course not," Nero says. "You see, unlike Christopher, you're more than just Kirk's friend. Killing you now would be a waste."

Leonard nods. "What makes you so sure someone's not going to take a shot at _you_?"

Nero laughs. "Here? In your holy shrine?"

"I'm not the one pulling the trigger," Leonard says quietly.

There's an odd silence before Nero seems to make a move, realization somehow dawning on him. He's too late, because there's a sound like something has popped through thin air and then the thudding of a body. Leonard hears a second sound, someone dropping to the ground outside. Footsteps running towards the confessional. The door opens and Jim is standing there, gun in hand. He holds out his other hand for Leonard.

Leonard steps out, sees Nero's man on the floor. Sulu and Chekov are already moving him onto a plastic sheet, before blood can spread on the ground. He looks at the other door of the confessional, eying the bullet hole before he opens it. Inside, Nero is staring at him with shocked eyes, blood running down the bridge of his nose and splattered like a halo behind his head. Leonard can hear Spock's measured footsteps behind him. He turns to look, seeing a rifle in Spock's hand. Spock is staring at the corpse with a fierce look of satisfaction.

Jim says. "Scotty's bringing the clean up crew. We've taken care of the car outside.

Leonard can't take his eyes off Jim. Jim returns the gaze firmly, without shying away. There is something about Jim's demeanor that suggests Leonard hasn't met this man yet, this cold-blooded killer.

_You know what I am. And you know what I'm not._

Leonard looks back at Nero. Dead, he looks as though he's the innocent one here.

*

Leonard can't quite quell the uneasy feeling in his stomach, a mixture of anger and regret. Mostly anger. Always anger. Even the way he moves in and out of Jim's body has a ferocity that scares him. The fingers of one hand are curled tight in Jim's short hair, tugging as he thrusts with ragged breaths, other hand tight on Jim's hip. Flush against Jim's body, he's been on his knees, pushing and moving, but not really feeling anything. Beneath him, Jim's knuckles are white, his hands gripping the pillow. The sounds he makes are sudden gasps and hitches. Finally after a while, Jim's hand flies back, landing on Leonard's, gripping hard.

Leonard stops, out of breath and out of fire. He flops forward on Jim, closing his eyes against Jim's sweat slick neck, opening his mouth against his skin. Palm on the place on Jim's hip, where his fingers had dug in roughly, he offers a soft stroke before separating himself from Jim and finally rolling onto his back, throwing an arm across his eyes.

Jim makes slow movements next to him, rolling over, sitting up, getting out of bed. A moment later Leonard can hear him behind the bathroom door, coughing as the shower comes on. Leonard sits up and stares at the slightly open door, sees Jim leaning over the sink and staring into the mirror before he walks away. Leonard listens to the sound of the shower running, thinking of that confessional which will always be the place were sins were committed instead of confessed.

After a while, when it looks as though Jim might spend the whole night in the shower, Leonard gets up and goes into the bathroom. He pulls back the shower screen. Jim turns his head and squints through reddened eyes, blinking as the spray continues to hit the side of his face. Leonard reaches past Jim and turns off the shower.

"You think you might retire your guns now Nero's dead?" Leonard asks.

Jim gives him a strange look, reaching for the towel. "Plenty more Neros out there, Bones."

"When the hell did it become your job to take care of them?" Bones asks, feeling a tight knot in his throat.

Jim shrugs. "Someone ought to."

"You're gonna get yourself killed," Bones says, his body feeling like it might just turn to water. "You keep going down this road, someone will come along and do to you what you did to Nero."

Jim nods. "I know."

"And what will I do?" Leonard asks. "What the hell am I supposed to do when that happens?"

Jim says, "Don't let them bury me. I don't like the idea of lying around rotting. Cremation."

Leonard turns away to leave, only to have Jim grab his arm before shoving him hard so he collides against the sink. Jim presses his body against Leonard's and kisses him.

"I'm not dead yet," Jim whispers between kisses, guiding Leonard's hands until Leonard has his arms around Jim's waist.

Leonard's arms take over by themselves then and hold Jim close, tight. There's a whole world of wrong in only caring for this one man, regardless of the things he's done. But then Leonard learned to love the vengeful and full of wrath a long time ago. It's as easy breathing.

*

It's a month before the police find the bodies. Leonard suspects there are people who know who the culprit behind the crime is. They either can't prove it, or they've been silenced with a thick wad of cash. Either way, Jim's gotten away with murder. And maybe it's not the first time.

The confessional has been repaired by Jim's people and the blood stains have been wiped clean. Leonard sits on the front pew, drinking from his father's flask and staring at the red he's sure he can still see. People come to pray here, he thinks, this place of blood and dead bodies.

He hears the sound of movement and puts the flask away before turning to look. Near the back of the church is a woman he's seen before. Her face is blank, her eyes dark and dead, fixed ahead. Leonard snorts, turning away with a sigh and looking at the man at the head of the church, eternally nailed to a crucifix despite resurrection. The so called almighty couldn't help his own son, how the hell's he supposed to help this woman?

Leonard gets up, walking around the end of the pew and down the aisle, rolling up his sleeves a he goes. She sees him coming and watches his approach. Leonard nods at her and takes a seat next to her.

"Father," she says by way of greeting, her voice flat, stern.

"You look like a woman with something on your mind," Leonard says, eying her wet boots, feeling the chill come off her clothes.

She shakes her head. "I just felt like dropping by."

"Sure you did," he says gently. He pulls out his flask and hands to her. "Here. Warm you up."

She stares at the flask and then at Leonard. He smiles and shrugs, which makes the corner of her mouth quirk up a notch. She opens it and puts it to her lips, shutting her eyes as she takes a gulp that makes her cough as soon as it goes down. She hands it back as she wipes the back of her mouth.

Putting the flask away, Leonard says, "Now, what's on your mind?" She shakes her head. "Sure?"

"It doesn't matter," she says.

"Maybe not today," Leonard says. "What about when you can't cover the bruises with make up?"

She gives Leonard a long appraising look before she smiles without humor. "Okay. Now what?"

The flat tone of her voice says she's given up and accepted that things will never change. Maybe she has her reasons. Leonard says, "Does he hit the kids?"

"Kid. One boy," she says.

"Does he hit your son?" Leonard asks.

She shakes her head. "I'd never let him."

"What if he tries?"

She looks at him and for the first time her expression allows room for anger, irritation. "I tried to leave him. He found me. Twice, he found me. He will _never_ let me leave. The best I can do is protect my son until _he_ can leave."

Leonard gives her a long look. "Why are you here?"

She laughs, her eyes shining as bright as her smile. "Are you kidding me?"

Leonard shakes his head. "I'm serious. Why are you here?"

She gives him a bitter smile. "Because I'm dumb. Because despite everything I can't stop believing. They say He works in mysterious ways. I just keep wondering how long it's going to take for Him to get to my prayers."

Leonard nods. "You have a place you can stay over the weekend?"

She frowns. "Why?"

"Do you?"

"It doesn't matter. He'll find us," she says.

"One weekend, that's all," Leonard says. She looks at him, expectant, maybe slightly hopeful. Then she nods and he says, "Go there."

"Why?" she asks.

Leonard unscrews the top of the flask and drinks from it. "Mysterious ways."

*

"I need a favor from you," Leonard whispers in the dead of night, waiting to be questioned or maybe denied.

"You only have to ask, you know that," comes the reply, quiet, almost confused. "Anything, Bones. Just ask."

*

His name is Fred Wilkins. He's wearing a smart suit and carrying a briefcase when he comes home. He looks agitated even as he's putting a key into the lock of the front door. The door opens and there's a moment of quiet pause before he probably wonders why the lights are all out.

"Wendy!" His voice is harsh, angry.

The moment he steps into the living room, he's surrounded by shadows that beat him to the ground with swift and measured moves. Within seconds he's on the floor, hands cuffed behind his back, Uhura's heel digging somewhere in his back, her gun pointed at his head.

From his dark corner, Leonard can make out Jim who is seated in an armchair, one leg crossed over the other, hands cupping the ends of the armrests. Spock is silent and unmoving at his side, hands clasped behind his back.

"Please! Please, take what you want! Don't... don't kill me," Fred says from the floor. "Please, God, please."

"We're not here for your stuff, Fred," Uhura says smoothly. Fred moves under her foot and she says, "Anh! I wouldn't do that if I were you. I might not be able to stop this gun from going off."

"What do you want?" Fred asks, voice hardening, but not completely free of tremors.

"A little bird told me you like beating up on people," Uhura says. "That true, Fred?" Fred is dead quiet. Uhura pushes her heel down, making Fred grunt. "I'm asking you a question, Mister."

"You heard wrong," Fred blurts out in pain.

"Yeah, well, your wife's bruises say otherwise," Uhura says.

"She's lying," Fred says. "I would never--"

"I have a gun pointed at your head," Uhura says sternly. "If there was ever a time to tell the truth, _Fred_, now's that time."

Fred is quiet of course. Leonard hears Chekov or Sulu snort somewhere behind Uhura. Jim is still quiet, Spock a dark shadow next to him. It makes Leonard's heart speed up a little. He doesn't want blood to spill tonight.

"Look... I don't mean to," Fred stammers. "Okay? I didn't mean it. Damn it, I love my wife and son."

"You're a liar, Fred," Uhura says, as if she's just chatting with a friend.

"What do you want?" Fred grates out in frustration. "Did she send you? Did she tell you to do this?"

"What if she did?" Sulu asks, daring Fred to say the wrong words. "You going to smack her around a little more?"

Fred takes a long loud shuddering breath. "Look, I swear, I'll never do it again. I _swear_ to God, I won't. Just... please."

Jim finally moves, slowly walking to Uhura's side, his shadow silently staring at the man on the floor. Leonard hears an audible click from Uhura's gun, a sound that has Fred begin to cry in gasps.

Uhura says, "Here's what you're going to do, Fred. You're going to pack up your stuff and you'll be gone by the time Wendy comes back. You even walk past this house again, you don't get a warning. You just a get a bullet in the brain." Fred is making distraught noises. Uhura digs her heel in again. "Hey, you got that?"

"Yes," Fred manages to gasp out. "Yes."

Jim crouches down and asks Fred in a quiet measured tone, "How come you don't want your wife to know you hit your son?" Fred doesn't answer. Jim waits patiently.

Fred is sobbing against the floor. "She'd leave for good," he coughs out. "I told him not to tell her."

Jim nods slowly before getting to his feet. He turns to Uhura and says, "We're done here."

Sulu and Chekov haul Fred from the floor. He starts to struggle, shouting and screaming before someone gags him quickly and efficiently. Spock gives Jim a nod and as Fred's dragged away and he follows behind. Jim and Leonard are left alone in the dark.

"You said you weren't going to kill him," Leonard says, stepping out from the corner of the room.

"Don't worry. He'll wake up tomorrow morning with some bruises and a headache before we send him a gentle reminder over the phone to recall our conversation," Jim says, turning and heading to the hall, sounding like he's bored of this all now.

Leonard goes after Jim, gently putting a hand around his arm and turning him around. "Thank you."

Leonard can't see Jim's expression in the dark, just the light that's hitting his pale eyes as he asks, "Why do you care about this woman so much?"

Leonard thinks of Wendy, the dead expression of defeat. "Someone should."

"Playing God, Bones?"

Leonard shakes his head. "Being human."

Jim snorts at that and tugs on the opening of Leonard's coat, parting it before reaching inside and finding the flask. He opens it and takes a long swig, before turning away, keeping the flask. "Let's get out of here."

Leonard follows, looking up at the stairs on the way out, hearing Fred's muffled noises. Outside the street is covered by a fresh blanket of pure white snow that makes everything gleam anew, whilst covering up a multitude of sins and ugliness. Jim stops by the car, holding the door open for Leonard, downing what's left in the flask.

Leonard glances at the house a final time before Jim joins him and shuts the door before lying down so his head ends up in Leonard's lap, the flask still in his gloved hand. Leonard looks down at Jim, at his slow blinking pale eyes, flushed pink cheeks, his mouth odd tight line. Leonard indulges himself by stroking a hand through Jim's hair, relaxing when he hears Jim sigh and sees him closing his eyes.

A moment later the door to the driver's side opens and Sulu climbs in. Leonard can hear Spock's car starting up and already driving away.

"Now what, Boss?" Sulu asks, starting the engine.

Leonard places a hand on Jim's chest, letting him sleep. "Home."

**\- the end -**


End file.
